


Vapour Trail

by Phosphorite



Series: post-series giveaway companion [2]
Category: Free!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Disney World & Disneyland, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:29:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2677370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phosphorite/pseuds/Phosphorite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(But why should he say it?<br/>Rin should already understand.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vapour Trail

**Author's Note:**

> this story doubles as my entry for the final day of Rinharu Week as well as the harurin entry for my giveaway collection; i originally meant to post it on the first day, but because of time issues i had to postpone and merge it with day 8 instead. i chose to implement the prompt from day 1 (a sea of light that spreads endlessly) with the two prompts from day 8 (like the oceans that connect us / like the thread that ties us).
> 
> in the meantime, i made [this instagram parody](http://icecreambat.tumblr.com/post/103071450681/rinharuweek-day-1-a-sea-of-light-that-spreads) to go along with the story, which may or may not shed more light on the nuances of it.
> 
> i wish i could have done more than these two little things to celebrate RH Week, but nonetheless, i hope you enjoy.
> 
> /edit because i can't count, the final day is day 8 not 7 haha.

 

 

 

A large, round sphere rotates slowly in the darkness, continent after continent doused in a cascade of water as the spotlights hit the base of the globe. 

A thoughtful frown furrows Haruka's brow.

"...I somehow thought it would be," he says, pausing before the right word touches his tongue, "Different."

“You know that’s not actually in scale, right?” an arm lightly nudges at his own; something juvenile and instinctive whips Haruka’s head around and he wants to say, _of course I know, I know the real world is much larger than that_ , but the retort never leaves him before his face almost bashes into Rin’s.

“Come on,” Rin says, elbow locked firmly over Haruka’s shoulder, with little regard for anything but the phone he lifts up above them, “That’ll make a great backdrop. My team does this all the time.”

“I’m not one of your––“ Haruka begins, but the profile of Rin’s grin cuts him silent before the sound of the shutter does.

 

 

 

 _when you come to tokyo, there’s a place we should go._  

 

_It’s a message that hangs on the screen in the glow of his computer, translucent in the October night. The air is heavy with a glimpse of Fall, and when a low wail of traffic cuts the silence, he wonders how it must be, in a city filled with lights two hours in the past._

_He wants to say, it’s kind of a date, but he stills his hand before they hit the keys._

_Why should he say it?_

_Rin should already understand._

 

 

 

“We’ve only got a few hours before the park closes,” Rin says, gesturing at the already set sky by the Mediterranean Harbor, “But I’m sure we can go through everything you wanted to see.”

The brightness of his tone is second only to the energy on his face, and the map in Haruka’s hands feels stiff.

 _It’s not like that_ , he thinks, but all he says is, “Are you going to wear that the whole time?”

Rin automatically turns at Haruka’s voice, coming to a still by the promenade. There’s a twitch to his expression, one that smooths over with bravado before Haruka can connect the source.

“Hey, coming here was _your_ idea. Are you that embarrassed by me trying to fit in?”

When Rin tilts his chin, the mouse ears and the red ribbon give his attitude a childlike edge; it’s meant to test Haruka’s nerve and Haruka knows, but what frustrates him is not Rin’s obvious dare.

“I’m not,” Haruka begins, “Embarrassed by––“

But a group of teenage girls in matching outfits scurry past them before he can finish, and the rest of his words drown in the torrent of their thrill.

 

 

 

_i’ll come see you at the airport._

 

_It’s a message that lingers on the screen of his phone, a jaunted reflection of the sun breaking through the window. The air is drowsy with commuters and tourists, and when the polite voice trickles down the PA to announce the next train stop, he wonders how it must be, on a plane less than 30 000 feet and forty-five minutes from landing._

_He wants to add, it’s just me this time, but there’s no way the message would get through._

_Why should he say it?_

_Rin should already understand._

 

 

 

The torches trail along the bridge like Rin’s casual chatter trails their steps; when he walks, Haruka almost feels like they are followed by a sea of tiny little lights, wavering in and out in the darkness.

(In their wake, an ocean of shadows, the largest one of all undulating by his side.)

“We could just skip over to the Mermaid Lagoon,” Rin says, voice buoyant with an air that Haruka finds difficult to place, “I’m pretty sure that’s the thing you wanted to see the most.”

It’s true.

The underwater castle stands in hues of pink and purple, glittering in the distance like a mirage. Inside, the kingdom spreads out in swirls and waves, and for a passing few heartbeats Haruka feels alive with the spirit he has waited for all night.

His feet eventually draw to a halt by the statue with dolphins, and with a snort Rin pulls out his phone.

“Fine,” Rin says in good humour, “You want a picture, right? I bet coming here was your dream.”

His words nearly give Haruka a start, but once more the sound of a shutter going off leaves him little time to respond.

 _Was it?_ he thinks, but all he says is, “What do you mean?”

“You know,” Rin says, trailing off with a laughter that echoes with everything and nothing at once, and Haruka doesn’t know.

In the half-light, the photo turns out distorted and grainy.

 

 

 

_The dust of the airport feels like a vapour trail, but the familiarity of Makoto’s presence cutting through the murmur of the crowd isn’t there._

_Because there’s only Rin, and months later he is still_

_beautiful,_

_spirited,_

_unyielding,_

_(like the hope that one day, Haruka won’t feel the sting of each self-inflicted silence anymore; that one day, he'll know it was right to wait; that one day, if he holds on tight enough, then the oceans that connect them will somehow find a way of telling Rin all the things he doesn’t know how to say.)_

 

 

 

As they head out, a rainbow of lights glimmers off the surface of the water, and Haruka has never felt like reaching out to join them as he does today.

“Oh come on Haru, you didn’t drag me all the way out here to be too _old_ to get excited!”

It’s kind of a joke and it’s kind of not and Haruka can tell; the shine of Rin’s gaze never falters, but the confusion that clings to his smile is also sincere enough to hurt.

 _Why are you really here?_ Haruka thinks, but all he says is, “I’m not old.”

Rin rolls his eyes.

But when he tugs on Haruka’s hand, there’s a resolve to his touch that seeps through his skin; an urgency that nearly sends Haruka stumbling on his feet, down the path that leads them through the shadowed corridors and onto an island surrounded in stone.

(A touch and an urgency that almost feels like––)

“We haven’t gone on any rides yet,” Rin says, pushing Haruka through the gate that spells _20 000 Leagues Under the Sea_ , “But we should go on this one.”

The small submarine pod never truly descends underwater, but the bubbles on the window panel still leave Haruka reaching out his hand. The murkiness inside the capsule ought to weigh him down, but the suffocating unease never comes; instead of a shadow, Rin’s arm feels warm against his own.

“You wouldn’t want to swim with those, would you?”

Rin’s voice comes low, breaking through the ride’s narration at the base of Haruka’s ear; when his eyes flicker from the luminescent sealife to gauge Haruka’s expression, a sudden hopefulness wavers on his face that even the dim spotlights cannot conceal.

And it is here that Haruka understands,

(that maybe, Rin _doesn’t_ understand)

but then the capsule trembles with a scripted short-circuit as the lights go out, and in a split moment the world goes still; and really, there’s but one way to make him understand.

In the pitch-dark, Haruka’s hand finds Rin’s forearm, but his lips hit the side of Rin’s mouth. The sudden touch makes Rin turn his head on reflex, but in the seconds before the glow of sea-serpents lights up the darkness, what makes him connect the kiss is not surprise.

A surge of electricity kick-starts the fake engines, and its reflection in Rin’s eyes kick-starts Haruka’s heart.

He doesn’t remember the rest of the ride.

 

 

 

“H, hey, wait–– _Haru_ ––“

He almost walks over a child wearing a cartoon duck cape before Rin’s arm yanks him back.

There’s a buzz in his ears and a hum in his head and he hates, _hates_ that even after all this time, the sound of Rin’s voice grinds him to a paralyzed halt as much as his alarms are screaming at him to leave.

“Why,” comes the gasp like something Haruka has been fighting all night to quell, born from frustration and a feeling he still cannot quite name, “Are you even _here_?”

A hundred shades of bewilderment cross on Rin’s face.

“Why are you?” he asks, then, a calmness setting in; like a refusal to be another loophole, another commodity, another excuse to keep running away.

“Rin,” Haruka begins, but there’s nothing left of his temper to hide behind.

But then a sudden burst of gunshot cuts the air and a firework of colours breaks the sky; a sudden flood of people overwhelms him, as they all rush towards the bay to witness the closing ceremony of the night. It’s enough to once more bind the words in his throat, but Rin’s hand shifts to Haruka’s shoulder, and firm yet gentle fingers hold him still.

In the brief silence, not a fragment of Rin’s exuberant facade remains.

(In its stead, a lifetime of insecurity, and the shadow of each nerve as he wrestles them over until finally coming to a choice.)

“On the count of three,” he says, confidence belied only by the sharp quiver of his voice, “And we’ll both answer.”

“Answer what?” Haruka asks on purpose, on habit, on the last remnant of a fortified heart that refuses to admit defeat.

“You know,” Rin says; there is no laughter to trail his words this time, but Haruka doesn’t need any because he knows.

He knows, he knows, he knows.

“Three,” Rin says, and Haruka thinks of the dream they ruined, on that day at the school yard at twelve years old with idealism at their feet.

“Two,” Rin say says, and Haruka thinks of the dream he gained, on that day in a foreign land at eighteen years old with cynicism in his hands.

“One,” Rin says, and Haruka thinks of all the dreams he’ll ruin, and the dreams he’ll gain, and how none of these might ever come to pass the way he’d always hoped for once these words become reality;

but when the fireworks go off, when the sky melts in spheres of red and blue,

(he says it anyway)

 

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

_when you come to tokyo, there’s a place we should go._

_It’s a message that hangs on the screen in the glow of his computer, translucent in the October night. The air is soft with the bloom of Spring, and when a low wail of traffic cuts the silence, he wonders how it must be, in a city filled with lights two hours into the future._

_He wants to ask, is that a date? but he stills his hand before they hit the keys._

_Why would he ask?_

_He already knows the answer._

 

 

 

_i’ll come see you at the airport._

 

_It’s a message that lingers on the screen in the glow of his phone, a fading reflection of a morning breaking in the window. The air is stale with cabin pressure, and when a gentle voice trickles down the PA in English and Japanese, he wonders how it must be, on a train or a crowded bus to Narita, forty-five minutes from landing._

_He wanted to ask, just you, or you and Makoto? but he switched his phone on flight mode before he switched it off._

_Why would he ask?_

_He already knows the answer._

 

 

 

_But the dust of the airport still feels like a vapour trail, yet the warm smile he expects to cut through the murmur of the crowd isn’t there;_

_(no Makoto, not today)_

_because there’s only Haruka, and months later he is still_

_beautiful,_

_unreachable,_

_unyielding,_

_(like the hope that one day, Rin won’t feel the sting of each overly enthusiastic smile anymore; that one day, he can do more with life than simply resign; that one day, if he leans on the thread that ties them together, he’ll know for certain that someone’s holding out at the other side.)_

_Because a dream might only be a dream until it becomes fulfilled, and threads might only bind until they’re stretched to break, and a part of Rin might always continue to ask himself what he is really, truly doing here at all,_

_but why would he ask?_

_He already knows the answer._

_-fin_

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this story at a time when i struggled to connect with many of the things i love. somehow, i wanted to capture that, to depict something about the ambiguous state of haruka and rin's relationship post-canon: the one who hates to ask, and the one who hates having to answer.
> 
> there are a number of ways you can read this piece i guess; it turned out something of a spiritual companion to [Kaiyukan](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1162989), which was also born from an exchange after i visited Japan. miscommunication, pessimism and taking things for granted are themes i find myself repeatedly coming back to when i write harurin, so perhaps that was bound to happen.
> 
> still, a happy ending is just as meaningful as an unhappy one.
> 
> thank you for reading.
> 
> p.s. as all my giveaway companions seem to be written to songs by marina & the diamonds, this one goes out to 'lonely hearts club'.


End file.
